The stairs from the throne room took her down into hell. The smell of blood and bodily fluids overwhelmed her senses and the darkness only added to the sense of evil that arose from ahead. Her enhanced vision was good to a point, allowing her to see enough of the gruesome details that her stomach clenched for the third time that day.

But soon enough even her vision was not good enough for the impenetrable darkness that hung over the prison. There had been no sign of the spirit that had prompted her to leave Skulduggery and descend down into the monster’s lair, but death and pain hung heavy in the air, so thick that she wanted to turn around and flee to the surface.

But she couldn’t, not yet. She took a deep breath and called upon her powers, dim lights filled the entire place, the souls of the deceased prisoners. Their anguish was overwhelming. Their forms blurred as if they could not hold themselves together. They were everywhere, in the cells, in the halls, drifting, trapped in the place where they had died. It wasn’t right, they should have been able to move on.

She spun around, drawing her blade as a bright, defined soul came into view. It crossed through one of the tortured souls and the weak soul dissipated only to reform a moment later. She shifted, ready for an attack, then the soul registered.

“Dante?”